The Cookson 10k

May 28, 2025July 15, 2025 notbuilttorun2025, Cookson 10k, Running2 Comments

“So, the Labyrinth is a piece of cake, is it? Well, let’s see how you deal with this little slice…”

Jareth, Labyrinth

Now that pesky Marathon is out the way, it’s time to get back to racing. Well, I don’t really have a choice. I’d forgotten I’d signed up to a 10k race just two weeks later. Why am I so stoopid, to quote the brilliant Sifan Hassan.

This is also a 10k race with a mile climb in it. That you do twice. However, it is a hill I know well, as I grew up at the top of it. My youth was spent, walking, cycling, running, and drunkenly staggering up it. The latter when I was bit older, obviously. Therefore, I like to think I have the ‘muscle memory’ advantage. I tell myself that, anyway.

When I was a kid, I used to watch this race every year. I would sit on the wall outside my house and clap the runners as they passed. I always said that one day I would do it. It took a couple of decades, but eventually I did.

I know, that sounds like a proper shit film. And it would be. At least if we got Michael Bay to direct, it might have some ridiculous explosions in it. What am I even talking about. Who knows.

Back to the Cookson, post-Marathon I’ve been ok. My left hip has been a little sore, but not when running and not to the point where I’m in any real pain. I’m just aware of it.

My biggest problem has been the need to retrain myself to run fast. Or untrain my Marathon pace. And I have 2 and a half weeks to do it.

Someone at the club has told me though, having gained a tremendous level of fitness from the training blocks, I should be hammering out belter 10ks. I’m not convinced.

I want to try and match or better my Cookson time from last year, which will require a 7:58 pace. On my runs leading up to here, I’ve been nowhere near that. However, in a race situation with others, it’s amazing what you can pull out the bag. Or so I hope. As a precaution, I spend the 48 hours leading up to the race shouting ‘faster you bastards’ at my legs. That should do it.

The great thing about this race is that the Start and Finish are less than a mile from my house. So I really have no excuse. I’m allegedly at the top of my running fitness game, with no ball ache logistics getting there and back. Basically, I have no excuses if I’m shit.

Just taking a look at the course, it’s 2 laps of the below. As I mentioned earlier, from the green dot to the roundabout just before the 7 is the hill. What goes up, must come down though, so from just before the 8 to back to the start is downhill. So, two long climbs, two long drops.

Last year, my build up wasn’t exactly ‘elite’ standard. I was in Greece on a family holiday, only landing 4 hours before the start time. My hydration and pre race diet wasn’t great either. I think I sweated out about 20 gallons of Mythos. Despite all of that, I got a PB. No, me neither.

As tempting as it was to prepare for this year in a similar fashion, downing copious amounts of Mediterranean Larger on the days leading up to it isn’t really recommended. It’s not big, and it’s not clever. It is fun though.

After an attempt at the weekend to do 10 miles at a faster pace, I follow this up with an easy 5 on the Monday. Then on the Tuesday, I skip the Club session and have a rest day. Look at me, what a pro.

So to Race night, and it’s not a bad evening for a run, 11c and sunny. There has been a manky coldish wind kicking about for a few days. As usual, it’s coming in off the sea, but in this instance that’s a good thing, as it will be behind us on the climbs.

The aforementioned start (and finish) is at a local school. As I half arsedly walk towards it, it’s the usual pre-race scenes I’ve grown accustomed to. Pockets of beasts doing shuttle runs, sprints, slow jogs, whatever their poison is. This used to intimidate me. Now I’m tired just watching them.

I dump my stuff in the school and have a good old chin wag with some of my fellow club runners. I’m still drinking off the glory of my Marathon exploits, in that I’m still being asked about it, so it’s nice to continue boring people with it nearly 3 weeks later.

After a few minutes of holding court, we head down to the starting corral. This isn’t a massive race, 500 places with only about 400 of those usually turning out. Due to us starting on a pedestrian path though, it can feel quite congested at the start.

Some quick words from the Race Director (basically, be careful now) and away we go. As soon as we start, we hit a sharpish right turn. This bit is always a little chaotic. I marshalled this point one year and thought I was going to die. Death by a thousand Vaporflys, trampling over my head.

I feel great once we start. Perhaps too good, as I notice I’m doing sub 7 min mile pace. Whoa there. I slow down, but not too much, seeming to settle on around a 7:40 pace for this first mile up the hill.

Still, that’s quite quick for me on a 10k. Once at the top we pass my childhood home, and I give the aforementioned gate post I used to sit on and watch this race a slap as I pass it. They’ll stick that in the movie.

It’s a quick right into the Lonnen. This is another trip down memory lane. The Lonnen is basically an old short country road that connected two villages. It was at the end of my road, so I used to play down it as a kid a lot.

Not only that, it’s also where I started my running journey. It’s a quiet road most of the time, and as it winds round fields, it’s sort of like being in the countryside, even though you’re not. So perfect for running. Sadly, it’s also doomed. 5,000 houses are about to go up around it. Progress eh?

Nostalgia aside, it also marks the point that we’re going to be heading down hill for a mile or so. It’s a lovely early summer evening, and flying down through the fields with the sun starting to set will never get boring. It’s nights like tonight why I run.

As I head round to complete Lap 1, I’m aware that this is going quite well. I feel quite strong and my pace is in for a Cookson and 10k PB. However, Lap 2 of this is always the tester. You’ve just done a quick 5k, can you climb for a mile?

I said at the start of this review that I had the advantage of muscle memory when it came to this hill. Well, it’s time to test that theory. I attack it from the off and feel great. I’m passing people who are huffing and puffing on the way up, turning to them as I pass and shout ‘WHAT YOU GOT?’ That last bit may be a lie. However, I know that these people will shoot past me on the flat and downhill. That’s life. For now, I’ll have my moment on the hill.

I’m maintaining pace once I hit the flat and still feel strong. This is going great and, whatever happens now, this is going to be a really enjoyable run. One of those where you’re not fighting to keep going, you feel loose and fast, but I’m also not arsed about what everyone else is doing. If people are passing me on these closing stages, I’m not even noticing to be honest.

I cross the line in 46:32, with a pace of 7:25. It’s a 10k PB, 4 minutes faster than last year. I’m given an official time of 46:30, finishing in a respectable middle of the pack 182nd. Not a bad nights work.

As the course itself is just over 6.2 miles, my official 10k PB pings up as 46:10. If I never run a quicker 10k in my life, I’ll be absolutely fine with that. This is my ‘home’ course, so if this is the one my PB will always stand against, it would be quite profound. If you believe in that kind of shite.

Because of all the above, it’s fair to say I’m delighted with this run. When races come together like this, weather, pace, body, mind and enjoyment, you embrace them.

Next up, the iconic Blaydon Race in June. Hopefully, I bottle whatever I’ve got at the minute and take it with me. Especially if it’s a bottle of EPO. I’m kidding again. I have no idea where to buy it.

The fact is, I’m having fun with my running at the moment, and isn’t that really what it should all be about?

The Belfast Marathon

May 14, 2025July 15, 2025 notbuilttorunBelfast, marathon, Running3 Comments

“If anyone is feeling anxious, worried or maybe you just want a chat, please, please do not come crying to me.”

Sister Michael, Derry Girls

It feels like an age since I wrote a Race Review. The last one, it transpires, was in January, when I covered the North Tyneside 12k Trail Run.

What I do know is that I’ve really struggled to write this post. I think I’ve rewritten this whole first section half a dozen times. Honestly, if you think this intro is shit, you should have seen what got binned.

Before I cracked on with this review, I went back and re-read a blog I posted way back on the 1st January. It talked all about my motivations and expectations of training for and then running a Marathon.

It does make interesting reading. Well, it does to me, as it’s a mindset 18 or so weeks ago of someone stepping into the unknown. There’s a teeny bit of fear in there, not overtly, but you can certainly smell it.

Fast forward to May, and I’m on a plane, heading to Belfast, ready to run that Marathon. I’ve brought the family with me, a nice extended Friday to Tuesday weekend. Time for sightseeing, with a pesky 26.2 mile run squeezed in on the Sunday.

We arrive on the Friday after only a 40 minute flight. Honestly, I’ve been stuck on the Metro longer than that. I love Northern Ireland straight away. Our Taxi driver is loud and a bit mental, exactly how I like them.

Our hotel is right in the City Centre. It’s also going to be on the route of the Marathon – mile 9 to be precise. This gives the family a great and convenient spot to see me on the day. They can literally have a lie in, breakfast, then saunter outside. Don’t worry family, I’ll do all the work.

Saturday morning, after an extremely restrained breakfast where I stay well away from the all you can eat fry up buffet, I’m off to the Expo to pick up my number.

Again, the location of the Hotel is a winner here, as the Belfast ICC is only a 10 minute walk straight down the road. I couldn’t even get lost if I tried. Signs, literally, of what is to take place tomorrow are already on show.

I’ve never been to a Marathon Expo before. Obviously this one is much smaller in scale to the major ones, but it’s fairly busy and very well organised. We’ll come back to these later, but there are three separate events on the Sunday – The Marathon, The Marathon Relay, and the 8k Walk. Everyone is filtered through to the right area.

As I come in, one of the Volunteers asks ‘Marathon?’, and for the first time I get a tiny ping of nerves. It passes quickly though, and I pick up my number and pack from the lovely ladies on the desk. The nerves quickly disappear, as my instincts about this race seem to be right. I wanted my first Marathon to be fairly chilled, no drama, no stress. A short walk to a busy but not crazy Expo is a great start.

I can even leave my bag here today, which I do, to save the stress of messing about tomorrow. It’s a good start, and other than making sure I catch one of the Shuttle Buses in the morning, all of the logistical stuff is done. Easy peazy.

In the afternoon, we do the City Bus Tour. This is a great way to do some sightseeing whilst also staying off my feet. It’s also a recce for the course. The tour takes us round various parts of it, including the hilly bits, which I want to see in advance. The verdict? Hilly in parts, but nowt dramatic.

In the evening, I deploy the Eat Pasta, Run Faster principle at a lovely local restaurant. This is all going too well. I get to bed early, feeling far too relaxed and prepared with the whole thing.

I sleep surprisingly well and, much to my daughter who is sharing our rooms disgust, up at 6am to get ready and put some fuel down me. Porridge, Battle Bar, Banana. Breakfast of Champions.

I’m staying just round the corner from the City Hall, and this is where the organisers have provided free buses to get us to the start at Stormont. Again, this is well organised, and I get on one with no issues. I look around and it’s full of lots of very serious game faces. I just look out the window, still feeling quite chilled about all of this.

It’s quite a quick journey to Stormont and we’re there in no time. It’s a beautiful morning, and Stormont looks stunning in the early sun. It’s a fantastic place to start any race from.

It isn’t too busy just yet, so I head for my final toilet stop. There are only 12 portaloos, which isn’t great if I’m honest. I always find that most races, big or small, tend to balls this up. By the time we start in a hour, the plants and bushes around Stormont have had an extra water, as runners dive into anywhere to avoid the queues. I have to imagine anyone going for a nice stroll around the place later that afternoon would be enjoying the strong smell of piss.

The Start line itself is on a downhill coming out of Stormont. Again, it looks fantastic. On the TV footage that I watch later, they have a drone shot of this where it looks even more spectacular.

Two other guys from my Club are running this (they blame me for planting the seed) and we meet up and chew the fat before the race starts. This really helps with the nerves, having two familiar faces who I’ve trained with, here with me, miles from home.

You know what though, what nerves? I’m not nervous. We talk this out and realise none of us are nervous. We’re feeling confident, no fear. We’re ready, we’ve put in the miles and trust the process. I’ve got a tiny ping of excitement, which is a bit weird. Really, I should be shitting myself.

The starting pen is very relaxed. I mean, there are no pens, no barriers, just see where the pacers are and position yourself accordingly. Handshakes with my club buddies, we all go and stand where we kind of want to be. For me, that is a little behind the 4 hour pacer. I want anything sub 4:10, but I’m not nuts enough to try and do anything stupid. I promised my wife.

No, today is about running the race I trained for. Run the whole thing, no stopping, keep a steady pace to get me in the 4-0-something ballpark. The horn goes, let’s do this shit.

I’ve not mentioned the weather yet, which is weird, as I’m properly fucking obsessed with it. Well, it’s ‘perfect’ for running. Allegedly. 11c and a bit of a breeze. It’s Sunny (and it will stay that way all the way through) but it will never get warmer than 12-13c.

As soon as I come out of Stormont, the crowds are great. This will be repeated throughout the course. Whilst there are only 4,000 of us running the full Marathon, there are another 18,000 doing the 5 leg Relay.

I feel good. My head and my body feel like they’re in the mood. I hit my pace and keep it as well. Canny start. The first Relay changeover is just after 4 miles and it’s carnage.

There are SHITLOADS of runners waiting for a baton changeover. How they spot people I have no idea. Full Marathoners are told to keep right by Stewards, Relay runners to the left, but there’s lots of criss-crossing and it’s a miracle I don’t get tripped. Thankfully, as the race goes on and the field opens up, the four remaining change overs are far calmer.

At mile 5 a runner saunters up beside me and starts to chat. His name is Nick, and he currently lives about 3 mile up the road from me. He spotted my club vest so knew I was local to him. So begins the start of a new friendship, forged over the next 21 miles.

In fact, Nick used to run for my Club. He’s in Northern Ireland as this is where is wife is originally from. He’s going to be moving here permanently in the next year or so. He’s also more of a Triathlete these days, but is a Marathon veteran. He’s running after just recovering from a stress fracture in his foot, can he tag along with me?

So from here till the finish (spoiler alert) it’s me and Nick. The next few miles fly by. We cut through Ormeau Park at mile 7 which is a nice change in scenery. This is also the only part of the course we will see again – we’ll finish here. That’s still another 19 miles away however..

We’re now heading into the City Centre, mile 9, and the spot where my family will be. I come round the corner, hang right, and I spot them straight away. My daughter takes a few photos, including the one below. It’s great to see them, and my wife points out later that I hit this section at exactly the time I told her I would. So far, so good.

We’re now heading out of the City and into South Belfast. We pass the Rise Sculpture and Windsor Park, as we drop further South and hit the half way point. I suddenly feel great, and Nick and myself pick up the pace a bit.

We’re about to hit an interesting section of the course, heading towards North Belfast via the Falls Road and the Shankhill Road. If you know your history of Belfast and the ‘troubles’, you’ll recognise these as famous, or infamous depending on your views, places of cultural importance.

We’re starting to climb for the first time as well. Very subtlety, but it’s definitely there. The crowds are still out in their droves and are noisy and encouraging. Throughout the course, I hear a few shouts for my club vest. It’s lovely support, and much appreciated.

Between the Falls Rd and the Shankhill Rd, we go through the gates and into the Peace Wall. Again, the cultural and historical importance of this is not lost on me. It’s also the start of some real testing and steady hills. We’re going to have about 2 miles of this.

The support both sides of the wall is fantastic. I hate to get all wanky, but it really is a humbling experience as I run along the wall. Just thinking about how different a place this was, even in the 90s, to how it is now. I’m not naive enough to think it’s all sunshine and lollipops between the two sides now, but I certainly wouldn’t have entertained doing a Marathon in this city 30 years ago. It’s come a long way.

We push through these hills, from around 17-19 mile, and we’re onto the most northerly part of the course – The Water Works. This is the old and decommissioned reservoir that used to serve the city. It’s now a nice park.

In fact, I’m told that this is where the first ever Parkrun in Northern Ireland took place. I can see why, with its waterside path and rolling hills in the background, it’s a lovely place for a run. Maybe not when it’s at mile 20 of a Marathon.

Last 10k to go. This is it. We pop out of the Water Works and a lady shouts at us ‘you look fabulous lads.’ And you know what, I think we probably do. I feel ok. The legs are a little tired, but not to the point where I feel like I’ll need to stop. My pace is steady and on target. If anything, it’s going too well.

We’ve now got some lovely downhill as we head South East back towards the finish in Ormeau Park. We’ll go via the river Tow Path, then round the outside of the park, before cutting in for the finishing straight. The Tow Path, at around 23 miles, is the first point I notice runners pulling up. I’m not going to do that though. I mean, look at me, I’m not even sweating.

Off the Tow Path, we’ve got a testing mile coming up – the Ormeau Rd. I was expecting this, a mile of steady uphill. This section is tough, but it’s where the crowd play their part. There is a tight funnel of people on the road, all shouting us up it. It’s amazing. I feel like I’m on a mountain section of the Tour de France. My legs are a bit tired, but I’m pushing through strong and the supporters are really driving me on.

Suddenly, we’re reached the top of the climb, it’s a sharp left, and we’re dropping down a hill on the other side of the park. This is mile 26, the last one, and the realisation hits me that I’m going to make it.

I’m going to run a full Marathon, without stopping, and it looks like at the pace and time I was after. Any drop in energy, or weariness in my legs, disappears. Nick and I shake hands while we run this stretch, thanking each other for the company and the mutual help getting through it.

Once again, the crowds are plentiful and loud. We come into the Park and can see the finish. I’m punching the air as I come in. Afterwards, when I check all of the photos, I find as usual that 99% are shit. But the one below is a doozy. Hang it in the Louvre.

I glide over the line, arms outstretched, with a time of 4:06:39. Get. The. Fuck. In. Unofficially (but factually), I hit 26.2 in 4:05:33. Right in the wheelhouse of what I was aiming for. Nick and myself give each other a big hug. That’s about as emotional as I get. I should be crying, jumping up and down, something like that. But instead, a big manly ‘thank you’ hug is all I need or want. Cheers Nick.

I receive my medal, and I think it’s a beaut. Same with the finishers top. Modelled here later in the hotel after my wife made me pose so she could send it to randoms.

I bid Nick goodbye as he wanders off to find his wife, thanking him once again and wishing him luck. The two other guys from the club spot me and again it’s big man hugs all round. They have also had blinders. The club WhatsApp group has been live tracking us throughout, and it’s mad to check it and see in real time everyone’s rooting for us hundreds of miles away.

We feel so good, we skip trying to get on a shuttle bus back to the centre, and just walk it. It’s a 20 minute walk, but I couldn’t give a shit. I still seem to have energy, the legs haven’t given up. I think it’s adrenaline.

My daughter meets me outside the Hotel and it’s more hugs. I’m enjoying the hugs. I have a glorious shower then pop down to the bar where I down a Guinness. Because I can.

After some recovery yoga and a nice little nana nap, the family head to the Europa for a celebration meal. I burned 3,400 calories today, I intend to replace them. I have the Fish, Chips, and Mushy Peas. It’s Heaven. I wash it down with more Guinness, then stuff my face with Sticky Toffee Pudding. Again, because I can.

We finish the long weekend on the Monday by going to the Titanic Museum, which by the way is brilliant. My quads are a bit stiff, but other than that I’m in good nick.

What a Weekend. I don’t know whether the stars aligned, Lady Luck was shining, or someone above (or below) was on my side, but everything seemed to come together. From travel, to prep, to race, to finish.

Would I do another one? Probably. Would it be Belfast? It’s a good shout. For now, it’s time to take stock, and concentrate on the shorter stuff I have in the next few weeks and months.

For reference, here is the course as published by the organisers.

..and how it looks on my Strava. Snap!

Thank you Belfast. You were magnificent.

Mood: Elated.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 16

May 2, 2025May 19, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlogLeave a comment

“Alrighty Then!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

So, here we are. Week 16. The end of training. By Sunday afternoon, I’ll either be a Marathoner or a DNF. Either way, I know I’ve done my best. I’ve followed the Club plan pretty much to the letter, give or take one or two sessions.

If it goes tits up on Sunday, then it goes tits up. It won’t be for the lack of trying or prep, it’ll just not be my day. What I have done over the last 16 weeks, is give myself the best opportunity to make sure it does go my way. And you can’t say fairer than that.

Philosophical bollocks out of the way, it’s time to look forward to the big day. Over the weekend, London and Manchester Marathons both happened. The vast majority of my Club Marathon WhatsApp group were either doing one or the other. I mean, none of them were doing both. That would be nuts.

If you live in the UK you’ll know that Sunday was the start of a mini heat wave. So, unfortunately, both runs took part in slightly unseasonably temperatures. And lots of people suffered in it.

The WhatsApp support group starts to be the complete opposite. I’m under no illusions that next week is going to be hard, but hearing horror story after horror story coming in on the Sunday starts to put a dent in my confidence.

That evening I decide I need to shut out the noise. So I lock the chat, whilst also making a conscious decision to stay off Social Media. I think proper athletes call it ‘being in the zone.’

Ah, that’s better.

On to week 16. I already feel like I have a bit more in the legs after the slightly lower milage week, especially with a two day rest. That means the weights session feels quite good. Another bit of good news, the Weather is looking like it won’t be too gruesome. The Met Office is predicting sunny spells, 11c when I set off, about 13-14c when I predict to finish. I’ll take it.

Back to this week, Tuesday sees my final Club session. I’m quite looking forward to it as well. No 5 mile warm up required, and I’ve to drop to a slightly slower and less intense group. Lovely.

It means I’m back in my old group that I was ‘promoted’ from 15 months ago. The session is 4 loops around the estate where I did some of my Threshold sessions. It’s a warm one tonight, the warmest it’s been all year.

There is something quite cathartic about it. Thinking about the cold and dark Thursdays I was dragging my arse round here, then tonight I get to sit on the back of a slower group and trot around on a glorious evening. The only negative is that there are a lot of greenfly in the air. I hope they’re full of protein, as I must have swallowed hundreds of them.

What is also lovely about this session is that a few people approach me and wish me good luck for Sunday. These are genuinely nice gestures, and I’m actually quite touched by it. It’s been a good night. My legs felt good, the run was enjoyable, and it’s given me a great confidence boost.

Wednesday is due to be even warmer than Tuesday. In fact, the next two days are the peak of the heatwave, before it thankfully dies off. The warmer weather means the sea front will be packed, so for my Easy 6 miles I’m going to head down the Wagonway.

It’ll be much quieter down there, plus there are pockets of shade. This will be much easier than my usual easy as well – I’m going to slow it right down. It’s a beautiful evening. It’s like it was meant to be, if you believe such stuff.

My knees are a bit stiff, but the legs are noticeably less heavy and tired. I enjoy this run, especially on the turn and back for the last 3 miles. The mood is good, and so is the playlist.

And then, it was over. It’s Thursday. It’s the last run of my Marathon training. Should I be emotional or something? I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe I’ll re-read all of the past weeks the night before and it will sink in then.

For now though, the end involves an easy 4 miles with some hill reps. It’s going to be peak heatwave day and evening, hitting 22c, so I’m again going to avoid the sea front.

Well, that was the plan, until around 4pm ish, when the clouds and a breeze roll in and it drops to a much more pleasant temperature. Ironically, I’ve spent the last 16 weeks slagging off the weather coming in off the sea. During a heat wave though, it’s a beautiful thing.

I do some half arsed hill reps down the Quarry to start with, then head down and along the sea front. The biggest thing I notice, is that my legs aren’t tired. In fact, they feel the freshest they have in months.

The sea front is busy, but not too busy. Between the weather, my legs, and the coast being fairly quiet, this is a perfect way to finish it. And finish I do.

I’m not sure how I feel. Maybe it will sink it later, but the answer to ‘will I feel emotional’ when I finish is, well, no. I feel nothing. What a cold bastard.

The important thing is that I’ve got through it injury free. Nothing pulled, twisted, tweaked, or torn. Getting to the Start line healthy should never be sniffed at.

So, there we are. The next time you hear from me will be the Marathon review. The tone of that review is unknown.

I’ll leave you with this in the meantime though..

When I first agreed to take up the Marathon plan, there were a set of rules to adhere to. Firs one was ‘no fucking walking.’ Fair enough. Second, was ‘be confident.’ No problem. The third, was to listen to the below. I’m Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe.

See you on the other side.

Mood: Joe Cal-fucking-zaghe

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 15

April 27, 2025 notbuilttorunLeave a comment

“Is It Number One or Number Two? I Just Want To Know How Much Time I Have.”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

I realised this week that I was going to need to take my daughter out of school to come with us for the Marathon. Well, that’s not completely true. My wife gave me a gentle kick about it as I’d completely forgotten. Whoops.

So I needed to fill in a form for two days off. For those not in the UK, schools have the power to fine you for what they see as ‘unauthorised’ absence. It can be £60 a day, for each parent. So potentially, £240.

So here’s a moral maze. Do we just pretend she’s ‘sick’ and at home, and not on a plane to Belfast. Do we play the dead granny/pet card? Or do we just tell the truth?

Honesty is the best policy I’ve always been taught. I write on the form that I’m running the Marathon and taking her with me for support. I realise that this might sound a bit wanky humble brag to the school, but that’s not the intention. It’s the old joke – how can you tell someone is doing a Marathon? Don’t worry, they’ll let you know..

In the end, the honesty pays off. Not only do we not get fined, the Headteacher writes back on the Form that he wishes me good luck in the Marathon. Winner.

It’s still Easter. Technically. Jesus has risen or something, so we get Monday off as a Public Holiday. Today is also the first day I’m able to look ahead at the long range weather for the Marathon.

In 24 hours, it changes 4 times. Light cloud with sunny spells on first check, then it predicts thick cloud, then it changes to sunny all day, to then predicted light rain. All of this at around 14-16 degrees. The only consistent part is light wind.

There’s an old cliche in running, in life really, that you can’t control the uncontrollable. So whatever it decides to do, fuck it. If it’s warm and sunny, I just go out slower. That’s life. I’m not a masochist.

Tuesday is a track night, and it’s the last Tuesday I need to do a big warm up. Again, I’m meeting up with others, except now there are only the three of us. Everyone else has their Marathon this weekend, so they are on a low mileage week.

The mood is once again pretty good. We’re nearly there, we can feel it, and we know we’ve put the graft in. The session itself is called Pace-2-Pace. It’s basically 800m at a certain pace, immediately followed by 200m at a faster pace, then a rest. Repeat with various amounts, but always go into the 200m fast.

As usual, despite high spirits, the warm up is leggy and the thought of now sprinting round the track doesn’t fill me with confidence. Once I get going though, I find something, and I’m flying. Sub 7 min pace flying. Another tough but good speed session done.

This week I don’t have to be up early for my Easy 6 miles on the Wednesday, I’ve got time in the evening. I’ve noticed a tiny bit of soreness in my knee all day, but nothing more than a slight awareness.

When I start to run though, it is sore. In fact, for the first mile, it does bother me more than it ever has done. Interesting. I plod on, but if it’s no better by 2 miles, I’ll call it quits and stop.

It does clear up, and I get through the 6. Something very much to keep an eye on. It can fuck right off at this point. I haven’t got in this deep for my bastard knee to fall apart at this late stage of the game. Still, it’s another good night on my shuffle..

We want to get loaded

Now completely paranoid (or maranoid as I’ve learnt) about my knee, I’m feel a slight trepidation about Thursdays nights Intervals. To add to my problems, the Met Office announce that the UK is to get a mini-heatwave next week. Ffs.

Thursdays Intervals are very much a case of de ja vue. Same drill as last week, pretty much the same weather. 3 x 3km at Threshold Pace, followed by 1km at Marathon Pace. It’s sunny, with a slight chill in the air.

I’m tired. I can’t tell if I’n physically tired, or mentally tired, I just know I’m tired. This is the last intense session I will do before the big day. Everything from now on is ‘easy’ pace. This is a slog, everything on my left side hurts, but I battle through it. Again, my playlist has to take some credit. I mean, who doesn’t love this classic?

Trying to ignore I was in my 20s when this came out

Can I then be arsed to get up on Friday morning for hills? Can I shite. But up I am. My knee, rather surprisingly, feels absolutely fine. I was expecting to wake up feeling like Marathon training had finally broken me. I don’t feel any niggles at all on my run, and even a bit less tired. Weird.

Which is just as well, as I’m doing this week’s long run on Saturday morning rather than Sunday. Match and pub on Saturday = me no likey Sunday mornings. Plus, I want to watch the London Marathon on the tele on Sunday. For inspiration, allegedly.

Even though it’s only 14 miles this week, I’m still up and away early. I just want it out the way to be honest. Unfortunately, that mindset carries over into the run. I can’t be arsed, I just want it over.

I don’t feel tired in the legs or physically, it’s all in my head. I thought this would be an easy and enjoyable finish to the long runs, but in the end it feels like a chore.

Rather than take this as a negative, I see this as a positive. I’m ready, in my legs and in my head. Both know the training is complete and I can do no more, so let’s just get this done. I complete 14.21 miles in 2:11:49, at a 9:17 pace.

One week left to go, and the last week involves very little. Three easy runs, very little mileage, mo intensity. I would look forward to it if there wasn’t that Marathon at the end of it..

Mood: Ready

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 14

April 20, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Excuse Me! I’d like To Ass You A Few Questions!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Well, we’ve made it. Taper Time. Who would have thunk it way back in Week 1, running the last 2 miles of my long run, round a frozen field, in -2 temperatures, having to come off the roads because they’d become far too dicey.

I bet they never make it, screeched Shania Twain once, but by Christ look at us holding on, we’re still together, going strong. That’s in my head the rest of the day, so it can also be in yours.

I am sore Monday though. I don’t think that was on any Shania Twain albums. Ironically though, it’s from working in the garden on Saturday, not from 20 miles on the Sunday. I still get through the Weights session with a minimum of fuss. Creaking, but strong.

Tuesdays club session is Prom Reps. 7 laps up and down the Prom. Quite a quick session, only around 2.5 miles in total, over before you have the time to hate it.

I do a 5 mile warm up once again with other members of the club who are Marathon training. The mood is good. We all know now that the worst is behind us. Well, apart from the actual Marathon itself, but you know what I mean.

I really enjoy this session. I chat to loads of people I feel like I haven’t seen in ages, mainly due to only coming once a week at the moment. It reminds me that once this is all over, it’ll be great to be back with the old crowd twice a week.

I also enjoy it because I feel great. Strong even. I’m hitting 7 min mile pace on the reps, but don’t even feel like I’m pushing it. I feel in great nick, basically.

I do have to be up early for my Easy 6 on the Wednesday, as I’m out at the football in the evening. It’s a very tired slog. The energy levels are low, understandable so soon after the night before, and the weather is crap. Misty, rainy, and wind coming in off the sea. Thankfully, auto pilot gets me round once again. And this classic comes on my shuffle.

One of the biggest changes now we’re in Taper is the Thursday Thresholds session. The mileage is now on the way down – 3 x 4km. I don’t work in Km, I work in miles. Which I’m aware makes me a bit of a freak in the British running community.

I program it in as a workout on my Garmin, the first 3km at Threshold pace, the final at Marathon. Rest for 2 minutes, do it again twice more. With the warm up and cool down, this will probably be 9 miles ish.

It’s sunny, blue sky, but it’s not that warm. It turns out to be a perfect night for a run, as well as being quite enjoyable. I wasn’t feeling it as I headed out, but soon run myself into it. My first rest takes place right in the middle of the Wagonway, no-one is around, and I enjoy the peace and quiet.

Including warm up and cool down, it comes in at 9 and a half miles. It’s less intense than previous weeks, and it’s the least knackered I’ve felt after Intervals in a while. I’ve just got one more of these to do, the exact same one, next week. I won’t miss them..

Friday is a Public Holiday, so I’m off work (woo-hoo!) but I’m still up early for my Easy run and hill reps. I’ve got quite a bit on today, so I need to get this one done.

I feel more tired than usual though, especially after I do my hill reps 3 miles in. The last mile is a real slog. I think the last block of milage might be catching me up, and my body is rebelling. It’s a dull but calm morning though, at least it’s got that going for it.

On Sunday, I ‘only’ have to do the 17 miles on my long run. It’s the first time I haven’t done 20 or more for 6 weeks, and a welcome sign that we’re in taper.

It’s a perfect morning for running, exactly like Friday. It’s overcast, no wind, and neither too warm nor too cold. The first few miles along the sea front are quite nice for once.

It’s Easter Sunday, so it’s even quieter than usual. It’s only suckers like me who signed up for Marathons not enjoying a lie in this morning. However, it does mean that not only have I got the weather going for me, there’s also less people and cars around.

Psychologically, cutting back a bit earlier to knock 3 miles off is a big boost. I again try to start at around Marathon Pace and see how I feel. Nothing stupid though. Slow and steady wins the race.

I complete 17.1 miles, in 2:38:10, at 9:13 pace. Jesus would be proud.

2 weeks to go, the shit stuff behind us, my attitude now is ‘let’s enjoy it.’ I’m sure the nerves will creep in the closer we get, but for now, I’m off to my mother in laws to eat my weight in Sunday lunch.

Happy Easter.

Mood: Resurrected

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 13

April 14, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“Lew-Who, Za-Her!”

Ace Ventura, Ace Ventura: Pet Dectective

Bored of these yet? Well, social media reactions and reader stats points towards the answer to that question being ‘yes’, but thankfully for everyone, it’s nearly over.

We’ve reached the 4th and final block of Marathon training, which means it’s 4 weeks till Belfast, the day of reckoning. The big miles are now done, and we’re into Taper time.

After my decent paced moral boosting 20 miler on the Sunday morning, scrolling through social media on the evening I’m reminded that running a Marathon ain’t no picnic.

Brighton Marathon takes place in the morning, and by all accounts it’s a warm one. As a consequence, race plans go out the window. Lots of runners struggle, from disappointment of coming in much slower than their target time, to the extreme of dehydration and sickness.

It’s a stark reminder that, as much as I’ve bitched and moaned about the cold weather these last 3 months, it could be the heat that will ultimately kick me in the bollocks on the day. I’m utter shite in the heat as well, although much better than I used to be.

With that in mind, I’ve started to take a look at the long range weather forecast. One is predicting around 13 degrees, which I’ll take all day. Of course, this means diddly shit, but it’s another thing for me to get obsessive over before the day.

The only negative of that big Sunday run, is that I’m creaking a bit on the Monday. Still, both in the Yoga and the Weights session I feel quite strong.

Tuesday is track night. Looking at the plan, this will be my last intense track session until the Marathon. It’s a Pyramid ‘Unsettlers’ session, with some random distances. 500-700-900-1100-900-700-500. The unsettling bit is that they are all either just over or just short of a full lap of the track.

I organise meeting up with a few other club runners who are Marathon training for the warm up. Again, this helps make the 5 miles tick over just a bit quicker. We’re all in the final block now, and it feels like morale is up. You can almost feel the sense of relief in the air.

The track session is fast. Like, really fast. One of my miles is sub 7 minutes. I mean, what the fuck. By the end, I’m hanging on. But hang on I do. I also feel quite strong by the end. It’s a great start to the week.

My Easy 6 miles on Wednesday evening is my usual route around the coast. The first 3 miles I’m plodding along like I’m cock of the north. The last 3 are spent dragging my arse to the finish. The only saving grace is my playlist, which includes this absolute banger that I haven’t heard in ages..

Wednesday was a dull so-so evening, but Thursday is a timely warm weather test. It shoots up during the day to a tropical 17 degrees.

It’s still 15 degrees in the early evening when I pop out. It’s a lovely night for a run. That’s a sentence I have’t uttered on this blog for a while. It’s 3 x 3 miles Intervals, 2 at Threshold Pace, 1 at Marathon Pace.

As it’s so nice, and also lighter in the evenings, I’ve got so much more options for routes. So I head down the Wagonway, come off at the Dene, through Holywell, then back down to the coast and along to home.

My Threshold pace is good, but my Heart Rate is high. It doesn’t bother me though, for two reasons. Firstly, I feel fine. Secondly – cheese. That’s right, cheese. I had cheese at lunch time, and it’s a bastard for putting your HR up.

There are worse places to take your 2 min static recovery

Heart Rate aside, this is a good run, and definitely the last of the stinkers. I’m knackered, but in a good way. Productive pain and all that.

Friday morning I’m still a bit tired but want to get the 4 easy with hill reps out the way. I noticed earlier in the week that my usual hill is out of action. The work going on down the Prom has now seen this fenced off temporarily.

So, it’s back to the Quarry. This is a slight cheat, as the hills here aren’t as steep, but I’m past giving a shite. I just take a longer run at them. It’s another of those autopilot runs, but I feel like I could run forever on tired legs. I probably can’t, but if I THINK I can then I’m obviously winning the mental battle.

Saturday is rest day. I say rest, I get up to do my Weights session and then spend the rest of the day sorting the yard and the garden out. I would have been less knackered running.

In fact, Sunday morning, I am a bit sore. Run 20 miles? No bother. Cut the Hedge and do some weeding? Broken.

Sunday is forecast to be another sunny Spring day, so for the first time in forever, I’m going to run in my vest. Amazing. No layers, no gloves. Fuck off Winter, don’t come back.

I also don’t have to run 20 miles today. I can do 18 if I want. The plan gives me the choice. But I thought, if I’m doing 18, I may as well do 20. Not only for time on feet, but also for the psychological boost getting another 20 pluser will give me.

I also want to try and polish my Marathon Pace now. So aim to sit in and around 9:20 miles.

This is exactly the same as the last big run I did on this route. Heading inland (Westerly) is straight into a slightly chilly wind. Then when I turn at 11 miles, the wind disappears and it feels like the temperature goes up 5 degrees.

Also like the last time, the legs are feeling it a little bit. I’m not too bothered by that at all though. This my 6th 50-plus mile week in a row, it’s been a tough block, and I’m surprised I’m not more knackered to be honest.

I hit 20 miles at 3:04:51, keeping an average of 9:14 /mi. Not bad. Not bad at all.

That’s it then. The last ‘big’ run is done, the last shitter weeks are out the way. I’m going into Taper feeling strong physically and mentally. This is all going too well..

Mood: Suspicious

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 12

April 6, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Runner, Running, trainingLeave a comment

“You don’t have to beat me, Michael. You just have to try and keep up”

David, The Lost Boys

Last week, someone called me ‘ripped.’ Yes, yes, they were pissed as a fart when they said it, barely able to focus and clutching what was in all probability their 8th or 9th pint.

The point is though, off their face or not, the sentiment was there. They are completely wrong though. Whilst I have certainly dropped some weight in the last 3 months, the only thing that is even remotely ‘ripped’ on my body is potentially one of my groins.

Still, it’s nice to get your morale boosted by drunks heading into Week 12. I have to say though, mentally and physically I feel fairly good. My knee seems to have settled down. It still clicks like a jazz singers fingers, but it hasn’t got any worse. Touch wood..

My Monday Weights session for example is the first one in a while where I don’t even notice my knee. I’m feeling stronger in these Core sessions also. I’m still not ripped though.

Tuesday is Grand Prix night, and it’s the last one of the season. This one is usually slightly longer, 5 miles, but due to ongoing work down the sea front, it’s going to be the same course as last time. So, two laps of the Prom, 3.4 miles.

At the last Grand Prix, I had a shitter. The slowest I’d run one in a while, with every man, woman, child, animal, passing me. Now we’re deep into Marathon training, I’m expecting same again. My Handicap is also a stinker – 18:30 – despite my poor show last time.

So on paper, not looking great. My 5 mile warm up doesn’t help matters, it’s shite and ploddy. At least the weather is ok. Slight head wind on the section heading South, but dry and actually light!

As I finish my warm up, for some reason, a voice in my head tells me to take off the shackles and go balls out. Stupid voices.

Can’t back out now though. So, right from the off, I just go for it. Early on I know this is going to be ok if I can keep up the pace. Only a couple of people have passed me after the first lap, far less than last time out.

I do get caught by some of the speed merchants in the second lap, but I’m keeping pace and happy with how it’s going. I’m right to be, I end up doing a 22:48 5k, my second fastest ever. Well, slap me sideways.

Unfortunately though, due to their being a match in the evening, my Wednesday easy 6 miles will have to be first thing in the morning. That will be the morning after a 10 miler, 5k of which was fast. What a slog this is. I don’t even think I can feel my legs last couple of miles. Even my playlist shuffle mocks me, when this comes on. Honest.

Twat

Thursday, my favourite day of the week. Can you feel the sarcasm just oozing out of that sentence. This one, is an absolute stinker. 4 x 3 miles at Threshold pace. Jesus wept. I hate this run just looking at it.

With warm up, this is basically going to be a fast Half Marathon with 3 lots of 2 min rests every 5k ish. I’m going to treat it like a long run therefore, and run a ‘route’, rather than just repeat the same streets.

Now it’s Week 12, I’m like a war vet. In the first few weeks of Threshold sessions, I was constantly looking at my pace and my Heart Rate. Bollocks to that now.

I therefore stick a finger in the air and plump for an 8:20 pace. A minute a mile faster than target Marathon Pace, but not eyeballs out. The route itself will be into the local estate, round that, join the Wagonway, follow that to the end, down to the sea front, back along the coast, then finishing in my street. If I’ve done my calculations right. Spoiler alert: I haven’t.

2.5 miles into my first 3 miles, I’m come into Holywell Dene. Always a highlight of running on the Wagonway (except when it’s muddy) but as I climb a small incline here I get a sharp pain in my right knee, enough for me to give out an audible ‘ow you fucker.’

The irony of worrying about injuring my left knee, only for my right one to suddenly be knackered, is not lost on me. Miraculously, it doesn’t bother me for the rest of the run, or even after it. I don’t know or care what it was, as long as it now fucks right off.

I complete my first two 3 milers at a good pace. Probably a little too fast to be honest. As such, the last two are brutal. This turns out to be the hardest session in all of the 12 weeks so far. The last 3 miles I am dead on my feet.

As alluded to earlier, I also balls up my finish. I’ve still got a mile left to run, yet I’m only around half a mile from home. The thought of going round in circles on my street is soul destroying. So I take a right back down to the sea front. I finish, it’s a half marathon exactly, and I am shattered.

There is therefore no way I’m getting up early on Friday for my 4 easy miles with hill reps. No fucking chance. Instead, I head out at lunchtime. Strangely though, I feel great. My hill reps are strong. By the Friday evening though, the tiredness hits me again. Thankfully, I’ve got Saturday as a rest day. I need it.

Sunday’s long run is 20 miles. I’ve also heard on the grapevine that next weeks will be another 20, then it’s taper time baby! With that in mind, I’m going to try a new route for this one.

There are actually a number of good training reasons for the new route. Now we’ve had a spell of dry weather, the Wagonways and dirt tracks are mud free and runnable for the first time this year. The route also includes a section with a subtle 3-4 mile climb, which will be a test, but one I think I need.

Finally, call me a sloppy bastard, but I my last biggie next week to be my usual route. A sort of celebration run, saying thanks and goodbye to the route that has helped me get to where I am. I know, it’s ridiculous.

I now have a solid Marathon plan as well. Set off at 9:20 pace, try and maintain it. That seems achievable, and would give me a 4:04 finishing time.

First 10 miles, all goes to plan. I feel pretty strong on the climb section as well. The second 10 miles goes even better, I seem to settle into a pace that is round the 9 min mark.

I finish and complete 20.25 miles, in 3:06:02, which is a 9:11 pace. I am slightly knackered at the end, but again not completely shattered.

Just a normal Sunday morning these days.

This is great, but also bad. 9:11 pace, if I could sustain it for another 10k, would give me a 4:00:47 finish. 48 seconds off breaking 4 hours.

That’s tempting. Very tempting. Too tempting. Bollocks.

Mood: Conflicted.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 11

March 30, 2025 notbuilttorunLeave a comment

“Death by stereo!”

Sam Emerson, The Lost Boys

I’ve noted that the one thing missing from these blogs, apart from entertainment, is the lack of stats. I love stats. Who doesn’t? Want some? No? Tough titty.

Thanks to a number of complicated calculations I’ve completed via my fingers and toes, I can tell you that I’m 69% of the way through Marathon training. Additionally, I can technically run 85% of the Marathon distance. Also, my body is 74% broken.

As we approach the last full week in March, I’m on 519 miles for the year. A total I wouldn’t usually hit until the end of May. In fact, by the end of the week that will pass 550.

My average long run on the weekend has been 17.1 miles. Average time spent running a week – 7 hours 31 mins. Yeah, yeah Vorderman, get to the point.

The point is thus; I’m doing ok. I’ve done what I said I would do, which in itself wasn’t anything complicated. Follow the plan, do it properly.

See all the above as my 10 week pep talk. Yes I’m tired. Yes some of the runs are getting tedious. But I’m still standing, and I’m nearly there. Eye of the fucking Tiger. We can do this.

After a Weights session on the Monday, it’s back to running on Tuesday. The plan has me taking a break completely this week from any of the Club sessions. So instead of the track, I have to head out for an easy 8 miles.

This 8 miles turns out to be the most enjoyable run in weeks. In fact, since I started this plan of pain 10 weeks ago. It’s been a beautiful Spring day, and the days are getting noticeably longer.

I head down the Wagonway, the first time I’ve run on it since the 12k Trail Run quagmire in January, and it’s gorgeous. The Sun is sitting low in the sky to my left, still giving off some warmth, the mud is gone, and everything just feels greener. Add in that I’m listening to my Fender playlist, and this is just about perfect.

The Shields Springsteen

At the end of the Wagonway I drop down to the sea front, following it all the way back to the Dome. As I approach the finish, a kid in a Liverpool top is coming directly towards me and so I can’t resist. I look him dead in the eye and slowly mouth ‘TWO-ONE’ at him. He’s about 8, but I’ve never felt so alive.

It isn’t all sunshine and rainbows though. I do my cool down stretching later and I feel really lethargic and sore. It’s odd, as I felt so great earlier on, and it was the least intense Tuesday I’ve had in months.

The weather is set to stay nice for a few more days, so I decide why not stick to the Wagonway for my 6 easy? I’m not usually a fan of out and backs, but with the Wagonway I never mind.

As I’m about to head out, my teenage daughter informs me she’s at her mates – who lives down the sea front – and when I’ve finished my run can I swing by and walk back home with her. That’s nowhere near the Wagonway. Bloody teenagers.

So I hastily work out a random 10k that sees me run through the streets, onto the Lighthouse (again somewhere I haven’t run to in a while) then finish at the Dome. It’s not as nice as last night, but it‘s still mild and light and enjoyable.

Sadly though, it’s time for Thursday Intervals. The Drunk Uncle of the week. This week’s session is especially epic. 1 x 2 miles at Marathon Pace, 3 x 3 miles at Marathon Pace. I’m going to aim for 9 min miles. Slightly faster than what I plan to do for the Marathon, but a pace I know I can easily maintain.

It’s another nice Spring day and evening, although there is a little bit of a wind. It’s the kind of wind I don’t mind though. It just makes getting out there much easier. I think back to some of the shite I’ve had to drag my arse out into these past 3 months. I’ve never been so delighted to see Spring.

After company last week, this one I’m doing on my own. I’ve now firmly abandoned the repetitive loops round the local estate. When I was doing 1km or 1 mile Intervals then they served their purpose. But 3 miles? No thanks.

I’m going to follow the route we did last week, along the coast, into Shields, round that, then back again. This ends up being less awful than I anticipated. The whole session comes in just under 13 miles, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s done, that’s all that counts.

Friday morning I’m up for my Easy 4 and Hills, and I can definitely feel all of those 12 from the night before. As I stand outside my front gate waiting for my GPS to kick in, I inadvertently let out a big sigh that echoes round my street in the early morning silence. I think that sums it up.

This week’s long run will be on the Saturday. Ironically, this is because I’m out on the drink with the running club in the evening, so Sunday morning is just not going to happen.

This long run is supposed to be structured with Marathon Pace miles followed by recovery pace miles. However, just like the last time I was meant to do one of these types of long runs, I’m not going to follow that.

Instead, I’m going to do the whole 21 miles in what I *think* will be my Marathon Pace. I’m going to go off a tiny bit quicker, then try and maintain it, rather than starting slow then pushing myself to too fast a pace later on. Something I think I’ve been guilty of.

It’s a nice morning, not the warmest, but the wind is westerly. Which means I’ll be running into it for 9 miles or so when I turn inland. It’s not a strong wind, but it’s constant with a bit of chill in it.

When it’s time to turn at the 13 mile point, it’s a relief to now have it behind me for the next 8. Despite that wind, this is going to plan, and I’m holding steady at a 9:20 average pace.

At mile 15 I do feel a little fatigue. Nothing major though, and to be expected when I haven’t had my usual Saturday rest day. I’m maintaining my pace, getting a bit faster actually, and the last few miles are completed in warm sunshine.

21.2 miles done in 3:17:11, at a 9:17 pace.

It probably goes without saying, but I’m delighted with that. Far better than I planned, and whilst not ‘comfortable’, certainly not uncomfortable.

Every week I keep expecting shit to hit the fan, and every week it’s landing in the bowl. And flushing first time. Or something.

5 weeks left. Hang on in there.

Mood: Powering through.

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 10

March 23, 2025March 23, 2025 notbuilttorunLeave a comment

“They’re only noodles Michael’

David, The Lost Boys

I had already started this post last week, and my opening line was ‘what Cup Final?’

I’ll tell you what Cup Final. THE CUP FINAL WE ONLY WENT AND FUCKING WON. In my last post I mentioned that I was off to London for the weekend to watch my team get beat. Did they get beat? Did they shite. I was never worried. Ahem.

22 successful miles completed on the Friday, from Saturday morning when I got on the train till Monday evening when I returned back in Gods Country, I drank copious amounts of alcohol. The Saturday especially, I was sitting in a curry house at midnight, slobbering on a Kurma and downing what was probably my gazillionith pint of the day.

What an athlete.

I had an amazing time, I wouldn’t swap it for anything, and my liver will eventually forgive me.

But to quote Soul II Soul – back to life, back to reality. We’re into Week 10 of Marathon training, there is no escaping it.

And Tuesdays session is an absolute shitter to come back to. Hills. Not any old hills, the Hill at the Priory that I mentioned a couple of weeks back. And this is not 10 cushy seconds of reps, this is 3 and half relentless miles of going up and down the bastard.

I set out on my warm up, the first time I’ve run since Friday morning, and my stomach feels like it still has all of the contents of the last 3 days in it. Guinness, shots, fry ups, etc. I know this is going to hurt.

There’s an awful, and I mean fucking awful head wind on the way to the session as well. I’ve got a painful upper back, another old injury that I usually keep at bay through daily Yoga. The daily Yoga that I haven’t done for 3 days.

I also have a slight pain in my right hip. And this one’s not a running injury. I have a huge bruise, caused by celebrating one of the goals at the Cup Final. I only realised I’d done it when I woke up Monday morning. Which is almost a drunken cliche.

This session is easy in structure, but hard in content. Start at the very bottom, hard to the first lamppost, easy back to the start. Then hard up to the next lamppost, back to start, and so on until we reach the top. There are a shit load of lampposts.

About half way through, I’m not sure if I want to throw up or shit myself. Both seem feasible at this point. Somehow, I battle through both of these potential faux pas, and no bodily fluids are projected onto or around my fellow club runners. I jog back home, for a very tired 10 miler in total.

Wednesday evening I head out for my Easy 6, but there is nothing easy about it. It’s by the far the most tired I’ve been on a run in a long time. I somehow drag my alcohol detoxing arse around for 10k, thankful that it’s just out the way.

It’s not due to get any easier. It’s Threshold Thursday. Having escaped it last week due to switching my long run to Friday, it’s back with a vengeance this week. 3 x 3 mile Intervals. Fuck my life.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one who is dreading this 9 miles of shite. A couple of lads from the club, who are also Marathon training, ask me if I want to go out and do this together, to try and make it less of a slog. Absolutely.

We meet on the sea front and head out towards Tynemouth, into North Shields, then back again. The pace is quickish, but it’s just what I needed. It’s not only great to have someone help pace me, it’s also nice to have good company. The time flies.

When I get back, I’m starting to feel human for the first time since getting back from Wembley. I’ve sweated out the crap and got back into the groove.

It’s 4 miles at easy pace with hill reps on the Friday morning, and the legs are heavy. I find all of this hard work, but it’s another of my training plan sessions knocked off. In the evening I do a core weights session, something I would usually do on a Monday but didn’t, as I was still pissed.

Saturday is going to be a rest day. I’ve earned it. I do another weights session in the afternoon, nothing too intense, but no running.

The Sunday long run is only, ONLY, 18 miles. Officially, I’m supposed to be starting slow, finishing quicker on this one. The weather, for once, is perfect. Dull, 7 degrees, dry – I would have killed for this 6 weeks ago.

After last week’s enforced change in course, it’s back to the usual route – south along the sea front, inland, turning dependent on the length, then back towards the coast.

After completing 20 and 22 miles, it would be easy to approach this run with the mindset that it’s a piece of piss. As I’ve said before though, respect the distance and all that. And that’s exactly what I will be doing.

The plan is to set off a little bit quicker than usual, by about 10 second a mile, see how I feel, then hopefully either stick with that or get even quicker.

The first 7 miles I hold at about 9:25 mile pace, exactly what I was looking at. Then from mile 8 I step it up a tiny bit, and by mile 11 I’m hovering around the 9 min mile mark. I feel like I’m pushing it, but not to the point where I’m going to punch myself out.

Apart from a bit of wind when running North, the weather behaves itself all the way round, and I complete 18.24 miles in 2:48:47 – a 9:15 pace.

That’s the ‘quickest’ long run I’ve done since starting this process 10 weeks ago. Could I maintain that pace for another 8 mile? Not sure. Probably not. While it’s tempting to have a go (this pace would get me a 4:02 finish) the realist in me knows I should be aiming more towards the 9:20s.

Anything from 9:20 to 9:31 pace gets me a sub 4:10. Honestly, if I get a finish with anything that is 4:0x, I’ll be as happy as a pig in shit. I’m not tempted to try and push myself to a sub 4 hour (9:09 pace). Not this time, anyway. What is it I’m always saying? Nowt daft!

So, what a fucking week. A drunken Cup Final in London one Sunday, a quick 18 miler the next one. What a time to be alive.

Mood: Winning

The Marathon Training Blog: Week 9

March 14, 2025 notbuilttorunmarathon, Running, RunningBlog, trainingLeave a comment

“One thing about living in Santa Carla I never could stomach; all the damn vampires”

Grandpa, The Lost Boys

Hold on, this one’s going to be a rollercoaster. Week 9. The first (and hopefully only) week where I won’t be able to run at all on the weekend.

Instead, this weekend I will be London. As the football (soccer to my US friends) team I support have got themselves to a Cup Final. So I’m off to the home of Football Cup Finals, Wembley Stadium, to attend it on Sunday.

Reasons for celebration? Not really. The team I support, who’ve I’ve been going to watch every week since I was 7, are always the Bridesmaid and never the Bride. They are also going to be in the Final against arguably the best team in Europe at the moment.

My view at the last Cup Final. In 2022. When we got beat. Again.

In short, they’re probably going to get a hiding. I expect them to get a hiding. They will get a hiding. But if you don’t have hope, what do you have?

So from Saturday morning when I board the train, to Monday evening when I return, I’ll be dealing with this highly probable outcome in the only way I know. I’ll be drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

So, no big run on the weekend. Instead, my week will look like this:

Monday – Core Strength (rest day)
Tuesday – Club Speed Session with 5 mile warm up
Wednesday – 6 mile easy
Thursday – 4 mile easy with 10 hill reps
Friday – 22 mile long run
Saturday – Drink heavily
Sunday – Drink heavily, watch Newcastle get stuffed, drink even heavier.

Elite athlete stuff, I think you’ll agree. Weather Klaxon – our mild weather was nothing but a tease. The temperature is due to drop a few degrees, and it’s going to rain most of the week. Fanfuckintastic.

Monday, we Yoga and we Weight train. I’m creaking but I’m ok. It looks like my left knee is going to grumble at me till the end of this process. As long as it stays as a grumble, it’s all good.

The weather has done as predicted. It’s noticeably colder, the wind is rolling off the sea and it’s bitter. I begrudgingly get the base layer out for Tuesday, but refuse to bring back the leggings. That’s accepting defeat.

It’s a Track session that evening, Broken Miles. The last few Tuesday warm ups have been shit, so I take up the offer of meeting three other guys from the Club who are Marathon training, to get them done together. This is just what I needed. The 5 miles fly by, as we chat shit like some sort of victim support group.

The Broken Miles session is a bit of a killer on paper. Then again, aren’t they all. It’s 1200m at 10k pace, 200 jog, 400m 5k pace, rest for 2 mins, then do it 3 more times. I’m tired just reading it.

However, this ends up being my best track session in weeks. I’m in a small group of 6 and we stay tight and at a good pace. By the end, myself and another of the Marathon guys I warmed up with are flying at the front. We both pass comment on this afterwards, that despite the tiredness and the intensity, our fitness and endurance levels have definitely gone up. It’s a great shot in the arm mentally that 8 weeks of graft seems be paying off.

On Tuesday evening, my wife asks if I’ve remembered that tomorrow night I promised to attend a meeting at the school about a trip my daughter is going on. ‘Oh yes, no problem’ I reply. Shit. I’d forgotten.

I don’t fancy running early on Wednesday, I’ll still be knackered from the night before. And by the time I get back from the school and get my shit together, it’ll be late. So the answer is, a lunchtime run.

The shit weather this week is now well and truly set in. The sea continues to shit in cold rain and hail with a strongish wind. Wednesday morning is biblical at times.

Lunchtime though, the clouds part and blue skies appear. It is still windy, and I don’t trust it as far as I can chuck it, so I go out ready for rain. But it doesn’t rain, and 3 miles in I’m feeling too hot. That’ll learn me.

I’m also very leggy. Once again though, I’m pushing through it. I’m tired, but there isn’t even a small part of me that thinks I’m going to stop. An ‘easy’ 6 miles completed.

I go to the meeting at the school in the evening, which is as you expect, but the funniest part is that they are banning mobile phones completely from the trip. I very much enjoy relaying this information to my teenage daughter when I get back. I’m such a bastard sometimes.

As I’m going long Friday, Thursday I’m dropping the Intervals. Can’t say I’m devastated. Instead, it’s 4 miles with the hill reps, and I’m going out first thing.

My luck runs out in regard to avoiding the crap weather. I get caught in a shower and, despite being layered up and wearing a beanie and gloves, I’m cold. It’s done though, and I’ve got 24 hours to rest before the 22 miler.

I’m expecting it to rain and not be the warmest Friday morning, but the winds are predicted to be quite light. ‘Gentle’ the BBC describes them as. This is good, as it’s the wind that is the real cause of the cold at the moment. The route I have planned also heads North along the coast for over 8 miles. I really, really don’t fancy running into a shite, cold head wind for that long.

The signs are good when I get up. The cat comes back in dry from his night of debauchery, so it isn’t raining. He’s usually my first weather barometer while I’m still half asleep and bereft of coffee.

It’s a totally different route to normal for my long runs, and I’ve got a little bit of trepidation about it. The first 8 and a half miles I’m basically killing miles – heading inland before dropping down to the coast. There is method to this madness.

As I’m running on a Friday morning, traffic will be much heavier than the weekend. The commute and schools basically. So my usual route is a no-no. The idea is to eat up miles 1-8 inland before it gets busy, then the last 14 miles (Jesus!) will be all along the coast, no roads to cross, nice and safe.

The first 8 go well. There is quite a bit of climb in this run, especially at the start, but I find hills quite easy when I haven’t got Club Coaches making me sprint up the bastards.

The key part of this run is the coast. If the weather is crap, this can be unforgiven. There is no shelter from the wind, rain, sun, or any elements this planet wants to chuck at you. You are completely exposed to all of them. Which is why I try to avoid it.

There is a slight northerly wind once I hit the coast, but it’s very bearable. It’s a little cold, but I’m not suffering in it. I head up the coast, through Cullercoats, Whitley Bay, Seaton Sluice, then through the Dune path to Blyth.

It’s quite nice going up the Dune path. When I first got into running, I used to drive here to run, because I was self conscious about running round my local neighbourhood. I feel a bit of nostalgia on this part, reminding me of how far I’ve come since the days of plodding round here trying to work up to 10k.

I reach the Bandstand at Blyth at mile 17 and turn. Whatever wind there is, it’s now behind me. About a mile later, I feel that wind suddenly get stronger, followed by a hail storm. Usually, at this point, I’d be shouting ‘FUCK MY LIFE’, but I’m feeling glass half full and am thankful it held off till I’d turned. Running into it would have been soul destroying.

Mile 19-20 we have to climb, but it’s a climb I’ve done countless times before. I’m actually feeling quite strong, and I up the pace. Once I get up the hill and hit mile 20, I know I’m going to finish.

My mile 21 is an 8:56, which was probably stupid when I look back. I drop onto the Prom for the final mile and tiredness is setting in a bit, but I don’t feel wrecked or like I want to stop. My final mile is a 9:06, again too fast, and I end on 22.2 miles in 3:30:20.

I’m delighted. I’m also not completely spent. Could I do another 3.8 mile? I think I probably could. The training is paying off, and this is allegedly the longest run I will have to do as part of the training. Although there are still 20 and 21 mile runs pencilled in the plan over the next couple of weeks.

Job done, and now for 3 days ‘rest’. I’m posting this early on the Friday evening, before I head to London and forget about the running till Tuesday.

Did Newcastle win the Cup Final? Find out in next week’s blog. Or Google it. The answer is probably no though.

Mood: Resigned

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